My name is Love, yes Love. Lets just say my parents practically
invented the whole hippie trend , and as a result I got stuck with a lame-ass cheesy name like Love. It's ironic really I never felt as though my names ever really fit me. Don't get me wrong I do love things, such as my crazy parents or chocolate, no matter how fat it makes me, but I had always grown up as a sort of loner. I just didn't relate to my peers, I had friends but I kept them few and didn't travel outside my comfort zone. I was quite and kept to myself. That is till I turned the exciting age of fifteen and I spent my first year in a completely foreign world called Hogwarts, that I learned a new way to love, his name was Sirius Black.
It was seven A.M. and I was up, despite the fact that my train wasn't boarding till one P.M.. Instead of sleeping like a normal teenager I stood in front of the bathroom mirror dabbing cover up on my blotchy face attempting to transform it to something even remotely pretty. I was the world's biggest contradiction, I was disciplined enough to wake up early or to work out every morning. But I neglected things such as remembering to turn in my homework, laying off sweets, and cleaning my room. I wasn't particularly a high maintenance person but I was slow and dreamy in the mornings and so found the only way I ever managed to get anything done was to start a few hours before.
I finished my make-up and glanced thoughtfully at the girl staring back. It was strange, this girl was me and I felt I hardly knew her. I hadn't changed much except for the red blotches, which were less noticiceable now. My cheeks still held their baby fat and my neck was stretched and slender. My eyes were large and brown, but if you looked closely you could catch the specks of green inside them. My hair badly needed to be brushed. It's fading blonde, which had clung to me as a child, lay in one large clump, and my thin, short pout seemed to small for my face. Who was this girl? Was she pretty? Was she ugly? These were the questions that often plagued me. It seemed impossible for anyone eles to know me when I didn't even know myself.
The door swung open to reveal my yawning mother, she, like a normal person had slept in. My mother stood their in her long silk robe and I could see her itching nag about the sight of my cluttered room, but she took a deep breath instead, rembering that her only daughter would be going away and she would not see her again till Christmas. It was funny how people changed, in my youth we had traveled across America to follow the Grateful Dead, but she was not the same crazy love struck teenager who had decided to name her daughter a stupid name like Love. It was a new decade and my mother had grown up, replacing her marijuana and boos for a house and family. "You're father's downstairs making breakfast," she said and I could see the slight wince she gave at the mess he was likely to make.
"I'll be right down," I nodded to her.
I could see the conflict flash through my mothers eyes. She wanted to hold me, to blend away the make up streak on my face, but she also wanted to complain about the atrocity of my room and to ask if I was sure that this is what I wanted. She faltered in the the door way for a moment, staring at me with her sometimes soft sometimes cool blue eyes before finally turning away.
My mother, unlike my farther, didn't understand my decision to go to Hogwarts. I hardly understood it my self yet here I was preparing for the train ride of my young life. It wasn't like I hadn't been the new kid before, I'd experienced many different magic teaching methods. From waldorf schools, to charter, to home schooling. And here my family was finally settled down in a tiny town near New York City, where I had, for a few years now, been attending one of the worlds only and most prestige Wizarding academy for the arts. Besides for me being a scholar ship student, I had felt I fit in here, with people who all shared the common goal of creating beauty in some form or another. It might have been the first place I had gone to school and actually enjoyed. I had my comfortable group of friends and I was good at what I did. When I sang my whole heart flew somewhere the whole of me had never been , out of this world, and I loved the drama, the soul that came with acting. So why was I giving all this up? To start over again in a place where I'd be far from understood, in the cruel world of high school, where I would not even be sheltered by my small group of friends?
I had know idea. Perhaps it was to please my farther, who begged me constantly to give up my childish dreams of becoming a star and to honor my family by going to the same school they had all attended before. Perhaps I wanted to try the world out for a spin, an experiment to see if I could survive. Perhaps I just couldn't stand to be happy, but what ever the case I had come from school one day with one thought in mind, Hogwarts.